Empty.

I

HUGE T/W: eating disorder, self harm

Empty. I feel empty. I feel nothing except for the hate I feel for myself. I hate myself. I hate the way I look. I hate the way I talk. I hate my voice. I hate my name. I hate the way people say my name. I hate me. So much.

"Isabella.. you haven't touched your taco.. are you feeling ok? I thought you liked tacos.." my mother said, sitting across from me at the empty dinner table.

She looked worried. I can't have her worry for me.

"I love tacos. I guess I'm just a little tired." I say, looking down at the taco sitting on my dinner plate. I slowly picked it up.

It was a beef taco with lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese on it. Gross. I watch the grease slowly drip out one side of it. I am a pig. I can't eat this. I will gain more weight. I weigh too much. I have to eat it. My mother wants me to eat it. I take a bite. I feel the grease sliding down my throat.I continue chewing. I force myself to swallow. I take another bite. Swallow. I'm starting to hurt. Pain. I finish the taco. Everything hurts. I can't handle this. I get up.

"Do you want some ice cream Isabella?" She asked, "I picked it up from the store. It's chocolate, your favorite."

I look up. She's waiting for a reply. I don't want to upset her. "Yes I would love some, but I have some homework still so I'll just eat it in my room." I forced the words out.

"Oh.. I thought we would watch a movie together.."

No no no no. She looks sad. I never wanted to make her sad. I always fuck up everything. I am worthless. No. I can fix this. "Actually I can just do the homework later. Let's watch the movie."

"Ok yay! I'm so happy!! I recently saw this..."

Her words got drowned out by my thoughts. I smiled and nodded and said, "that sounds good, we should watch it."

She looks excited as she inserts the DVD into our television. The movie sounds occupy my brain as I sit motionless and emotionless. I'm still in pain. I need to get rid of the pain. But I have to watch the movie. Pay attention to the movie. I only have to wait a few minutes until I can get rid of the pain. I can't wait that long. It hurts. I tilt the ice cream and it oozes over my hoodie. My mom looks over

"ISABELLA WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?!" She yelled at me.

Her words pierce my silence. "I'm sorry mom! It slipped out of my hand!!"

"Get a rag and clean it up. Then go take a shower. I still don't know why you would do that" She said through gritted teeth.

Her words stung. I silently walk over to the sink and get a rag. I wiped up the ice cream from my hoodie. I watch it seep into the cloth as I clean it. I walked back to the sink and wrung the cloth out. I set the cloth on the counter. I turned and walked to the bathroom. I got inside and I closed the door. I'm still hurting. The pain won't stop. I slip my sweatshirt over my head and drop it on the bathroom tiles. I look in the mirror. Bad mistake. My thoughts start attacking me. Why does your stomach look like that. Your cellulite is getting worse. You look fatter than ever they say. I look away. I turn on the shower. I double over in pain as I drag myself to the toilet. I need to get rid of it. I shove my hand down my throat. Gag. I keep my hand there. Gag again. I take my hand out of my mouth and double over. The contents of my stomach drop into the toilet. There's more. I need to get rid of more. I shove my hand back down my throat and gag again. My stomach empties much quicker this time. That's good. That means I'm getting skinnier. Healthier. Prettier. I stand up. My legs are shaking. I'm wheezing. I wipe the vomit off my lips. I slip off my sweatpants, underwear, and bra. I can't even look at myself. I'm disgusting. I step in the shower and let the icy water run over my face and cover my eyes. I step out and check the time. 8:37pm. I feel tired. I should sleep. I wrap a towel around myself and shakily walk to my room. I change into a different pair of sweatpants and a big tshirt. Good. I can't see what I actually look like with baggy clothes on. I can't see my body. I turn off my lights. I slip under the covers. I shut my eyes and fell asleep. Sleep is the only thing I like about my life. My thoughts can't follow me there.

Self harm/suicide hotline: 800-273-8255